


Girls' Night

by LinRo



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Post-Ending, Short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:56:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23474275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LinRo/pseuds/LinRo
Summary: The other female Phantom Thieves have invited Futaba to a girls' night. The only problem: she's not very good at being a girl.
Kudos: 20





	Girls' Night

Futaba Sakura was good at a number of things. Hacking, navigating the baroque world of the metaverse, and remembering the villain from every episode of Digimon Adventure were among her talents. But she had never been very good at being a girl. She had no concept of fashion, didn't know beauty products from motor oil, and couldn't cook anything more complex than instant ramen. (What else did you need?) What's more, she was confident she would never be attractive to men. When she looked into the mirror, which was rarely, Futaba was overwhelmed by her pale skin, her soda-inflected pimples, and the glare of her coke-bottle glasses. One look at her, and she was confident that any boy would know that she had spent a decade not leaving her room.

She had thought that maybe she had a shot with Joker, her quasi-brother who always treated her with kindness and seemed genuinely invested in her struggles to rejoin the outside world. But he had skipped town shortly after getting out of jail. Now there were rumours that he was having an affair with a doctor, or maybe it was a teacher. Futaba had realized that she was deluding herself into thinking that he had interest in anything other than her utility for the Phantom Thieves. With all the beautiful women around him, why would Joker go for a girl who wore the same clothes four days in a row?

So, after that road trip down south, Futaba had mostly retreated into her shell. She made it down to the corner store for supplies, and had brief conversations with Sojiro, but that was about the extent of things. The rest of the group was either bearing down for university entrance exams or already in uni. She would return to her princedom of online imageboards and hacker groups.

And then she got the message from Ann. She wanted to do something called a "girl's night" with the female Phantom Thieves. The only condition was that everyone swore not to tell Ryuji. Futaba agreed before she realized what she was doing. It was only afterwards that she realized that nothing would be more alien to her than a slumber party full of trying on lipstick and talking about boys. What good was a girl's night to someone who was so bad at being a girl?

She almost cancelled a dozen times. It would be easy enough to text Ann and say that she had a stomach bug and couldn't make it. Futaba knew from experience that if you just kept finding reasons not to go out, eventually people would leave you alone. But part of her genuinely wanted to see them again -- even Haru, who she felt she barely knew. So she texted back simple "k"s and "sounds good to me"s.

\---

Futaba had showered and put on a clean set of clothes for the get-together, although she still thought she looked like crap. Ann wanted to meet in Harajuku. It was an unfamiliar train journey for Futaba. The route was easy to figure out, but the train seemed different, more menacing than when she had taken it with Joker. There were so many people, all talking and jostling past each other. She found the corner of the car and prayed that no one came close to her.

They met up at a trendy cafe, whose windows gleamed with expensive cakes. The rest of the girls were already there, sitting in a booth and talking animatedly. As Futaba sat down, Haru shoved a fruity desert covered in whip cream towards her. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.

The girls didn't talk about the Phantom Thieves or the Metaverse this time. Instead, they discussed what Futaba assumed normal teenagers did: classes, boys, music, and whether that weird girl from school had really pooped behind the equipment shed.

The problem was that Futaba didn't have much to say on any of these subjects. She didn't go to their school, and was completely out of touch with mainstream culture. So she mostly occupied herself with eating, chirping in with an occasional "wow" or "that sucks."

She thought she was passing herself off pretty well until Haru turned to her. "Futaba, are you all right? You haven't said much."

Three pairs of eyes settled on her, and Futaba instantly felt her cheeks turn warm and her forehead get clammy. "Um... I'm fine. Just, you know. Having fun. With the girls."

Haru persisted. "What have you been up to over the past couple months?"

"You know... things. Hanging out." Futaba was desperate not to reveal that she had spent the whole time in her room, reading imageboards and getting up to some recreational hacking.

"Oh, well that clears it up," said Makoto. She had the same snarky, prosecutorial tone as her sister, and Futaba felt more than a little like she was on the witness stand.

She supposed she might as well come clean now -- let the other girls know how much of a loser she was, so that they didn't bother trying to be her friend. She had been a fine navigator, a great hacker, but with the adventure over there was really no reason for them to associate with each other anymore.

"I'm sorry guys," Futaba said. "It's just... I don't go out much, and I'm not good with people, and... I'm sorry."

She expected them to shrink from this abject display of self-pity, to say the right things politely and then quietly disappear. But instead, Haru grabbed her insistently by the wrists and pulled Futaba towards her. The orange-haired girl was staring at the cluttered table, but Haru lifted her chin up and forced her to meet her eyes.

"Futaba, we're your friends," said Haru. "We're all here to have fun, and to help you have fun too. You're not being tested or anything. Just... be yourself. We promise, we like you."

There was something about Haru's words -- their directness, the happy fury with which she spoke them -- that struck right through all of Futaba's built-up cynicism and other defenses. Haru cared. Futaba didn't know why she cared, but she cared.

"Just wait until we hit the mall," Ann said. "You'd be amazed how much the right set of clothes can increase your confidence." Futaba didn't know about that, but she nodded anyway.

"But first, we still have eating to do." Haru signalled to the nearby waiter, a handsome man in a vest. "Sir, we'd like to have the special."

"Ma'am, we don't have a--"

Haru gave him a knowing look. "The special. Tell Yamamura that it's Okumura ordering, on behalf of a very special friend."

The waiter looked a little shell-shocked. "Of course, Miss Okumura. If I had recognized you..." She shooed him away.

Haru leaned in to Futaba. "If you think these deserts are good... well, the special is going to blow your little tastebuds out of your head."

\---

Half an hour later, Futaba staggered out of the cafe, her little tastebuds blown out of her head. She had never imagined that dessert could be so complex. It wasn't just the sweetness, but the little taste of bitterness, the brittly cover of the pastry contrasted with the soft cream on top. Maybe food wasn't just something you got out of a vending machine or in the discount aisle of a konbini so you didn't die. Maybe it could be an art in itself, like flying through a bullet hell game without taking a single shot.  
Still, the next item on the agenda had her feeling queasy. The quartet bundled into the streets of Harajuku, the home of high fashion. The second they exited the cafe, Futaba was confronted with a hundred images of beautiful women in sharp, colourful clothing – women that looked nothing like her.

Futaba cleared her throat. “Um, I don’t need any clothes. I can just wait outside and hold your bags—”

Ann put a silencing finger to her lips. “Girl, how many times have we seen you wearing this exact outfit?”

Futaba looked down at her familiar tank top, jeans, and grungy camo jacket. She tried to calculate how many expeditions she had been on with the Phantom Thieves, and how frequently she changed clothes. “Um, I would guess—”

“Every. It’s every time.”

“Well, every isn’t a—”

“Just get in the store. I promise you, the clothes won’t bite.” Haru and Makoto watched this all with grins on their faces. Futaba had played enough tactics games to know when she was outflanked.

To follow the metaphor, Ann was a general, immediately directing their group to the section of the store with the best deals. Haru immediately started obsessing over a set of skirts with purple and pink streaks. Makoto was a little more restrained, but quickly busied herself looking at blouses and other clothes that wouldn’t be out of place at a job interview. Futaba tried to make herself look busy picking through a pile of shorts, still planning not to try anything on.

Ann grabbed her by the arm, and Futaba instinctively pulled away from her touch. The model still looked down on her with a beatific smile. “Futaba, you have such beautiful arms! You should really wear something that shows them off more.”  
“Um, I don’t know… I can’t afford…”

“It’s my treat!” Ann was now roving the aisles, picking up clothes and tossing them into Futaba’s arms. “Look, just try them on, and if you still don’t want anything I’ll leave it alone. But you’re gonna look great!”

Having been offered what seemed like an easy out, Futaba marched to the changing rooms. She hadn’t been in one of these since she was a kid. She shut the stall door behind her and clicked the lock shut, but was still uncomfortable. What if someone peeked over the top of the stall? What if the lock didn’t work and someone came in while she was undressed? Whose dumb idea was it to get naked in the middle of a shopping centre anyway?

But there was only one way out of it. Futaba decided to try on the first top on the pile and the only skirt that Ann had included. She didn’t expect to like it – even her Metaverse avatar had dressed drably, after all. She changed as quickly as possible.

The look in the mirror surprised her. Ann had picked out what she called a salmon-coloured halter top (it looked suspiciously like pink), and a skirt with small white pola dots. Futaba had dismissed it almost immediately as too girly. But seeing it on her, she… kind of liked it. If she saw this person walking down the street, she would think they were a hip young woman, on their way to a date or some fun social occasion. Would it be that easy to transform into that girl?

Of course not. They were only clothes. But, after trying the others on, Futaba decided that she would let Ann buy them. After all, it wouldn’t hurt to have another couple of pieces in the wardrobe. And maybe, just maybe, it was okay to want to look good. But she wasn’t going to tell Ann that.

\---

With shopping bags in tow, the four of them headed back to Makoto’s apartment for the evening. Sae wandered over from the other room and told them to keep it down so that she could work. Makoto had promptly put on a yakuza movie, and was now staring entranced at a spray of blood.

Haru pouted. “This isn’t really girls’ night viewing, Makoto. We need something romantic and sappy!”

“This is very romantic,” Makoto said, her eyes not leaving the screen. “Hyodo is in love with Kaori, but he knows that being with her would put her in danger. So he stares silently as she sells flowers on the street. What a guy!”

“Sounds like a creep to me,” said Ann.

“Pfft,” said Futaba. “They did this plotline much better in the seventh Urusei Yatsura movie.”

Makoto’s eyes travelled over to settle on Futaba. “Hey, Futaba... why don’t you show us something cool? We’ve all been giving you a little tour of our worlds – so how about yours?”

Futaba pressed her index fingers together nervously. “Oh, I just do boring nerdy stuff. Nothing you would be interested in.”

“Try us,” said Ann, a peppy smile on her face.

Futaba’s mind was whirling, trying to come up with something. How could she appeal to the straight-laced class president, the hip model, and the gentle gardener with her collection of dorky interests? They were so different from her.

She remembered again all the times she had thought to herself that she wasn’t good at being a girl. But Ann, Haru, and Makoto were all so different, and yet they all seemed like perfect embodiments of girlhood to her. Maybe there was more than one way to go about this.

“All right,” Futaba said. “We’re going to need a LAN cable and a good internet connection. Makoto, what kind of firewall do you have? Never mind, I’ll add my own.”

Before the night was done, Makoto’s increasingly beleaguered computer included access to live feeds of just about every international TV station (including Ann’s beloved k-dramas, and Haru’s British cooking shows), the latest video games and a few that weren’t out yet, and a daemon that would thrash any malware that dared venture near. The other three watched the process with rapt attention. Haru busted out a tub of popcorn.

They passed out somewhere around 3 AM, with a yet-unreleased superhero movie playing on the TV. Futaba woke up first, stunned by actual sunlight streaming through the window, not obscured by the blackout blinds she had at home. A kind of tranquility flowing through her, she got up and stretched, careful not to wake the others.

She thought maybe she was getting the hang of being a girl. But it would definitely take a lot more practice.


End file.
